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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514460">Dying, Surviving, Living</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers'>starkercrossedlovers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:26:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dying feels like drowning in a room full of air, surviving feels like his head is barely above the water, living feels like bliss.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Parker/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>65</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dying, Surviving, Living</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>This is what dying feels like</em>
</p><p>He realizes it as he breathes, lungs burning with every inhale and exhale, vision blurring at the edges and mind desperately working to stay awake, alive, for one more breath, one more slow blink, just one more…</p><p>He’s left a message for Pepper, the last of his energy fading as he watches the slow creep of space, the icy cold of it pressing against the glass.</p><p>There’s no way out of this, he knows.</p><p>This is what dying feels like.</p><p>“Mr. Stark? Hey, Mr. Stark!”</p><p>His eyes flutter open with a sigh. He wasn’t really asleep even though he’s exhausted, he’s too worried about going to sleep and never waking up. It’s probably the kindest way to die, but there’s some primal part of him that screams to fight, to keep breathing, even as it burns.</p><p>Through hazy half drooping eyes he squints at the figure crouched next to him.</p><p>“Hey! You know Mr. Stark, you should really get something to eat, you don’t look so good.”</p><p>A tired smile curls his lips and he sighs, nodding. “Probably right about that kid. Nothing left to eat though.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Don’t worry Pete, it’ll be okay.”</p><p>Peter smiles at him softly, kindly. “Sure it will Mr. Stark. Especially if you attach that coupler to the filtration unit from your suit and use it to recycle the air in here.”</p><p>Eyes widening, Tony stares dumbly at him and then collapses back against the hull of the ship, laughing. It’s tinged with hysteria and feels too loud, but it’s a release valve for the grief and anxiety that’s been welling inside him for days.</p><p>“Quit talking to the dead Stark, we’ve got work to do.”</p><p>A foot connects with his shin and he looks up, glare sliding away into confusion when he sees Nebula standing over him with a disgusted look.</p><p>Peter is gone….which makes sense, as he was never really there to begin with.</p><p>It hits him again, that the kid is dead and it’s fault and he wants to vomit and scream and curse, or maybe just die because then he wouldn’t have to feel this agony.</p><p>Nodding, he takes the hand Nebula offers him, grimacing as he goes lightheaded and his heart squeezes in his chest painfully.</p><p>As they walk away, he feels ghostly fingers on his neck and shudders at the whisper he knows only he can hear.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t give up Mr. Stark, I need you</em>
</p><p>This is what dying feels like.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>By some miracle they cobble together the parts from his suit to the air purification system and within a few hours it’s noticeably easier to breathe. There’s still nothing to be done about the lack of food or water, but he’s been studying the life support systems and he thinks he might have a solution soon.</p><p>“What if we filter the waste system and purify it into potable water?”</p><p>He hums, “Not a bad idea kid,” he agrees, avoiding the look he knows Nebula is shooting him.</p><p>So what if he’s seeing and hearing Peter? He’s going to die and if it means he gets to have him around, well, he’ll take it. Even if it does leave him guilt ridden and sobbing when the kid does disappear.</p><p>He’s never gone long, maybe a few hours at the longest, and Tony can’t write it off as oxygen deprivation anymore, this is just him, going straight up crazy.</p><p>He tried blocking Peter out for all of an hour, chest aching as the kid asked in a soft, wounded voice what he had done wrong. After that he had decided being crazy was better than being alone.</p><p>He and Nebula fiddle with the waste filtration system for hours until finally, it’s producing clean, drinkable water. The first glass they share is warm, tastes a little like greenery, but it’s still better than nothing.</p><p>Tony tears up when they drain the glass, his thirst raging to life in the back of his throat. It’s like a desert, aching for relief but for now he ignores it. The system needs to cycle a few more times and he’s exhausted, so he heads to the little nest he’s created, draws a blanket around himself and watches the universe slip past.</p><p>He wonders if Pepper’s even alive to get his message, if anyone he knew and loved is left.</p><p>“You look tired Mr. Stark, why don’t you rest?”</p><p>He sighs and rolls his chin to find Peter reclining against the opposite wall, concern on his kind young face. He smiles at the kid, heart aching with how much he misses him and his pop culture references and wide eyed enthusiasm for just about everything Tony says or does.</p><p>“Hey kid. Was going to sleep now, that sewage filtration idea of yours was a good one though, thanks.”</p><p>“Sure Mr. Stark! Why don’t you close your eyes, I’ll keep watch.”</p><p>Tony would protest that it isn’t possible for him to keep watch, that he’s not real, but he’s so tired he can’t even form an argument so he closes his eyes and sinks down.</p><p>A moment later he feels fingers running through his hair and he leans into it, tears rolling from behind his closed eyes.</p><p>“I miss you Peter.”</p><p>“I’m right here Tony.”</p><p>
  <em>No you’re not</em>
</p><p>He doesn’t say it, but it’s heavy in the air between them.</p><p>This is what dying feels like.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>It’s entirely by luck that they make it back to Earth. They come upon an abandoned ship floating through space and after a quick inspection, Nebula deems it travel worthy. They’re lucky enough that it has a warp drive that they utilize to get back in just a few hours.</p><p>They guide the ship to New York, the lightless, lifeless city below sending a shiver over his spine. Steve stares at him in shock, and then they’re lurching towards each other into a rough embrace, tears rolling down both their faces.</p><p>They’re a ragtag group, and their newest addition is a woman out of time, convinced that the way to beat Thanos is to go back, change things before they ever happen. He’s too tired to argue the possibility of creating a time anomaly, so he just nods along, eats his food and works on his suit.</p><p>He wanders the compound late at night, drinking too much, talking to Peter and wishing it had been him who had died instead. The kid is always close by, murmuring to him ideas for the suit or offering opinions on the fight to come.</p><p>If anyone notices the fact that Tony’s drinking too much and talking to a dead kid, they don’t say anything. Steve hesitates the first time he catches it happening and then asks nonchalantly what Peter thinks about trying to make Loki an ally when they go back.</p><p>After that there’s no question that despite the oddness of the situation, Peter is there to stay.</p><p>This is what surviving feels like; numbness, desolation, grief so deep it’s like a fathomless ocean.</p><p>Dying was better.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>They succeed, miraculously, in going back. It’s startling to see himself looking so young, but soon they’re battling the Chitauri and capturing Loki and removing the mind control Thanos had placed him under, and then it’s on to the next step of the plan.</p><p>“Duck Mr. Stark!”</p><p>Tony dodges a blow from one of Thanos’s minions, barely missing being decapitated before Steve is lunging in and shattering its skull. They share a brief appreciative grin before they slide into combat once more, soaking to the skin in blood.</p><p>It stinks, sticks and dries uncomfortably, and when he’s in the shower, he scrubs his skin until it’s raw and red and still, he doesn’t feel clean. He collapses onto the tiles below him sobbing, gasping for air, arms wrapped around his middle, desperately trying to hold himself together.</p><p>Ghostly fingers brush against his forehead, and when he looks up it’s into Peter’s kind eyes, soft with concern and affection. “Just breathe Mr. Stark, just breathe,” he whispers, pulling Tony into his arms and holding onto him as he sobs.</p><p>“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here. Just breathe.”</p><p>This is what surviving feels like.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“You need sleep Mr. Stark.”</p><p>He nods. Takes another sip of whiskey.</p><p>“Sure kid, once I’m done here,” he agrees tonelessly.</p><p>Fingers brush through his hair and he can see him, from the corner of his eye, more real than he has any right to be, watching him with concern.</p><p>“Please? Come to bed?”</p><p>Tony swallows hard, shivers running over his skin as Peter’s hand covers the back of his neck, slim fingers brushing against his skin softly. Heat builds at the touch and he leans into it unconsciously, sighs when Peter’s thumb rubs soothing circles into his jaw.</p><p>“C’mon Tony, lets go to bed.”</p><p>So he does.</p><p>He follows his ghost to his bedroom and orders FRIDAY not to let anyone in and strips before crawling into bed, headache throbbing away behind his eyes.</p><p>He smiles when fingers brush his forehead, soothing and gentle. A kiss to his temple has him curling towards Peter, aching for more of the gentle touches. It’s wrong, he knows, to want Peter like this, even if he was real, it would be wrong—age of consent be damned.</p><p>He’d always made sure he brushed off the hero worship and the too long stares the kid sent his way—he’s fucked up, but he’s not <em>that </em>fucked up…right?</p><p>Peter’s hand tilts Tony’s chin, warm brown eyes smiling at him before he leans down and presses his lips to Tony’s.</p><p>“Go to sleep Mr. Stark, I’ll keep you safe.”</p><p>He does, with Peter’s fingers raking through his hair and his quiet voice humming softly a tune that Tony knows, but can’t remember.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“I’m just saying! Should we really be relying on a guy who’s talking to a dead kid?”</p><p>The room goes silent, tension in every body as they all either studiously look away or glance over at him.</p><p>He can’t even blame Rocket, as weird as it is to say, because yea, he’s not the most stable, but he’s holding it together. And that’s all he has to do, keep holding on until they get everyone back.</p><p>Once he gets Peter back—and Pepper—he reminds himself forcefully, it’ll all be ok again. He just has to fix what’s broke—himself included.</p><p>Steve shakes his head at the raccoon, “Tony knows what he’s doing. I trust him with my life.”</p><p>Tony looks at the other man in surprise, but nods his thanks. They’ve come a long way since he returned to Earth, but they have further to go. Eventually he gets up and leaves the conversation behind—he doesn’t actually care if they think he’s sane or not, so long as they fix this, it doesn’t matter.</p><p>“It does matter Tony…you have to hold on. Don’t let go of who you are,” Peter pleads softly as he messes with the nanites in his lab, hands shaking at the sound of Peter’s voice. It’s been a few days and he had started to worry Peter was gone.</p><p>“I’m never gone Tony. I’ll always be here for you.”</p><p>Tears blur his vision and he sobs, curling in on himself as Peter’s arms wind around his shoulders and pull him into his chest.</p><p>His lungs feel like they’re shredding, copper heavy on his tongue as he bleeds out inside, heart cracking inside its cage between his ribs. He wishes he could rip it out and leave it on the floor, useless broken thing that it is.</p><p>This is what surviving feels like.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>It takes all of them to fight Thanos, the battle bloody and ruthless, but eventually they kill the mad Titan and take the gauntlet to be destroyed in the same place it was made. The stones are destroyed, despite Strange’s wariness to lose them—convinced they could be used for good—an idea Tony would have agreed with once upon a time.</p><p>Before Thanos.</p><p>Before Peter dissolved into ashes before his eyes.</p><p>Before he had to hear him plead with Tony—<em>please Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go!</em></p><p>Across the universe order is restored, loved ones lost return. He watches as Steve and Bucky embrace, Quill and Gamora reunite, T’Challa and Okoye…person after person…stomach plummeting when neither Pepper nor Peter appear before them.</p><p>He’s failed.</p><p>His heart turns to ice in his chest, numbness spreading through him and he leans a little heavier into Nat, her eyes wary on him, too knowing for his liking, but he can’t…he can’t do this anymore.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Steve decides to stay in the 40’s with Peggy—no longer a man out of time. When he offers his shield to Bucky there’s a collective moment of shock before the man nods and takes the iconic piece of vibranium, the mantle of Captain America passed on.</p><p>They return to their timeline, broken, battered and bruised and as the team celebrates he slinks away from the rest of the group, everything too loud and bright.</p><p>Surviving sucks.</p><p>The door to his quarters shuts with a soft metallic sound, the lock engaging a moment later and an order to FRIDAY will ensure his solitude. He plans on getting blindingly drunk and sleeping for a week, celebration be damned.</p><p>He chuckles bitterly; what do they have to celebrate?</p><p>Steve is gone.</p><p>Thor is gone.</p><p><em>Peter</em> is gone.</p><p>The strongest, bravest, <em>best</em> members of the Avengers, lost, forever.</p><p>A sob hitches in his chest as his eyes burn, tears welling up. Is this surviving? He hates it. Doesn’t want it.</p><p>“Mr. Stark?”</p><p>Head whipping up, he blinks through his tears and finds the familiar figure of Peter Parker, sitting on the edge of his bed.</p><p>Smiles tremulously.</p><p>“Hey kid, glad to see you’re still with me.”</p><p>Peter’s brow furrows, “I…I mean, yea, of course Mr. Stark, always.”</p><p>Tony manages a weak smile and pours himself a drink, sips the burning liquid and shudders as it spreads through him.</p><p>“Are you—should you drink like that?”</p><p> Tony snorts and turns back to the kid, “I’d say I earned it, don’t you think? Saving the universe and all?”</p><p> “Yea, but, why are you still not happy?”</p><p>Tony half sobs and stares at him incredulously. “Happy? Kid, how could I be happy? You’re <em>gone</em>! Dead! And the only reason I’m seeing you is because I’ve <em>finally</em> gone flat out fuckin shit house crazy!” he shouts, “Do you get it? I’m broken! I-I’ll never be Iron Man again. I’m done!”</p><p>Peter stares at him, aghast, confusion and hurt staining his face. “Mr. Stark…”</p><p>“No! No…I can’t Peter. I need…fuck, I need you…but if you stay…” Tony shakes his head ruefully and laughs bitterly, wipes at the tears on his face, “I’ll jump out that fuckin window someday. I can’t live not having you. I can’t remember that I failed you every time I look at you.”</p><p>He’s pleading now, frozen heart shattering in his chest as he begs his ghost to stop haunting him.</p><p>“Please Peter, please go. <em>Please</em>.”</p><p>There are tears on Peter’s face now too and Tony sobs, swallows down a gulp of whiskey and curses, fills the glass again with fumbling hands.</p><p>“I’m not dead.”</p><p>Tony stills for a moment and then shakes his head. “You are. This is just my fucked up mind trying to give me what I want.” He exhales shakily, “But I can’t have you kid. You’re not real.”</p><p>“<em>Please</em> Mr. Stark, I promise I’m real!” Peter begs, half sobbing now too.</p><p>Tony whirls and glares at him, “Stop! S-Stop torturing me!” he snarls, “I can’t love you and not have you,” he hisses, “Don’t you get it?!”</p><p>Peter stares at him wide eyed as Tony breathes unevenly, tears in his eyes once more. The kid shoots to his feet and stalks over, grabs the glass of whiskey and chucks it at the wall, both men startling at the crash.</p><p>“I am <em>not</em> dead,” Peter tells him lowly, firmly. Reaches out and grabs Tony’s wrist, holds on as he tries to fight. “Feel that? I’m real dammit!”</p><p>Tony shakes his head furiously, yanking on his wrist even as part of him remembers that when Peter touched him it had been like a gentle breeze on his skin—fleeting and barely there.</p><p>This is…real.</p><p>Alive</p><p>Warm</p><p>Tony stills as Peter’s hands tighten around his wrists, dark eyes gazing up at him steadily, determined.</p><p>“I’m real,” he whispers, “I promise.”</p><p>A half choked sob punches out of Tony and he tugs a hand free, shaking as he reaches out to touch Peter’s face. The boy smiles and leans into it, warm and solid and real against his palm.</p><p>“Peter?” Tony whispers hoarsely, painful hope burning inside him, and he knows, it’s either real, or he’s so far gone it doesn’t matter anymore. If he’s so crazy that he’s able to touch his hallucinations, he’s going to lock himself away in a remote location and live out his days in pleasant insanity.</p><p>“Have you ever been able to touch me before? When I was gone?” Peter reasons, likely seeing the hope and disbelief warring on Tony’s face. Some part of him appreciates the reminder to use that analytical brain of his and he shakes his head slowly, recalling every time Peter had ever touched him.</p><p>He can smell Peter now too—cologne musky and warm, the soft scent of honey and lavender from his shampoo, all things he hadn’t been able to sense before.</p><p>“I could be having a break from reality,” Tony reasons, voice hoarse and low.</p><p>Peter nods and tugs him toward the door. “Let’s see if anyone else can see me,” he suggests, “Rhodey wouldn’t lie.”</p><p>Tony nods slowly and lets the kid tow him out of the room and back towards the celebration. The remaining teammates look up, shock silencing the room and hope burns brighter in Tony.</p><p>“Can you see me Rhodey?” Peter asks, smiling at Tony’s oldest friend.</p><p>The older man nods disjointedly, a smile beginning to creep onto his face. “Y-yeah kid, I see you.”</p><p>Tony’s fingers tighten on Peter’s wrist, “Rhodes, you <em>sure</em>?” he demands, voice breaking on the last word. If this is just a delusion…he can’t. He won’t survive it.</p><p>Rhodey nods again and reaches out to poke Peter in the chest, bright laughter boiling out a moment later. “Yea Tones, I’m sure.”</p><p>The dam inside Tony shatters and he curls inward with a sob, swaying dangerously till Peter grabs onto him, pulls him into his arms and holds him as he weeps.</p><p>A storm of grief and euphoria devastates Tony, the reality of the young man holding him up too much for his broken heart and broken mind to handle. Peter carefully guides him back to his rooms, hushing him gently as he applies a little strength and makes Tony sit on his bed.</p><p>He strips Tony of his shoes and socks, pulls his jeans off and slides his button down shirt off till he’s in his briefs and a tank, shivering as he sobs. Peter hastily sheds his own clothing and slides into bed beside Tony, murmuring softly for FRIDAY to darken the room.</p><p>When Tony panics at the sudden darkness, sobbing and clutching at Peter, he urges FRIDAY to turn on a nightlight, low and golden around the edge of the ceiling. When Tony can see him again he settles some, arms banding tightly around his waist as he buries his face into Peter’s shoulder.</p><p>His heart breaks for his friend, mentor, love of his life really. He hadn’t known how deeply his death had affected Tony, and now he wishes he had a way to take it all away—the pain, the grief, the loneliness.</p><p>As Tony quiets slowly, he runs his fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of affection and assurance. When Tony finally falls asleep, Peter watches him, tracing the deep lines in his brow and the dark circles beneath his eyes.</p><p>Tony had survived losing him, but at the cost of his sanity and health. He’ll make sure that Tony learns to live again, in time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  
</p><p>The sun shines down, drying out the red earth below, the scent of rosemary and lemon heavy in the air.</p><p>Tony shifts and Peter glances over at him, smiling when the older man sighs softly in his sleep, face relaxed and tanned from weeks in the Tuscan sun. He watches Tony sleep for a few minutes before turning his attention back the screen in his hands.</p><p>He’s been reviewing after action reports for the teams since he and Tony left for Italy three months ago. The UN hadn’t been pleased to receive notice of Iron Man’s retirement, nor the notice that Spider-Man would be taking a vacation for an indefinite amount of time unless an imminent global threat arose.</p><p>The rest of the team and the Guardians had things well in hand, and he wasn’t about to leave Tony.</p><p>Not now.</p><p>He and Tony had arrived in Italy just two weeks after the return of the Avengers and the restoration of the universe. Ross had tried to accuse them of being lazy, self indulgent or cowards, that was until every member of the Avengers and Guardians had threatened to refuse the call if Ross and the UN didn’t support Tony and Peter.</p><p>Faced with losing earth’s best defenders yet again, the capitulation from those in power had been swift.</p><p>A distant rumble of thunder draws Peter’s gaze to the horizon. It’s been weeks without rain, the earth so dry he can hear it cracking under his feet when he walks out into the orchard each morning, the creak of the branches in the wind dry and lifeless.</p><p>He hopes the rain lasts like they say it will, a slow steady soaking that will bring life to the earth once more.</p><p>He leaves Tony to sleep while he pads barefoot into the kitchen, his hands moving almost mindlessly as soft music plays from the record player in the other room. The house belongs to Tony’s family—the whole town really—and it’s littered with photos of his mother as a teenager, smiling brightly, laughing and dancing, and he knows it makes Tony’s heart ache to see them, but it’s a good ache, he thinks.</p><p>The roast chicken recipe is one of Tony’s Nonna’s, the picture of her and her husband watching over the kitchen—her dark eyes and wry smile reminiscent of her grandson. He sees Tony everywhere in this place—in the faces of his family and the updates he’s made to the electrical grid, to the flawless Italian that he speaks when they venture into town.</p><p>Thunder rumbles louder and when he glances out the window the clouds are much closer now. He can feel the air pressure changing, the temperature falling and a shiver runs over his skin, senses tingling. There’s anticipation in the air—of the storm to come, of all the things the future holds, and it makes him yearn for something unsaid.</p><p>Drying his hands on his shorts, he heads out to rouse Tony, a light hand on his brow and brush of his lips against Tony’s.</p><p>“Wake up Tony,” he whispers against his lips, “storm is coming.”</p><p>Tony’s beautiful eyes flutter open and a slow smile curls his lips.</p><p>“Mio caro,” he whispers, voice husky from sleep, face soft and open.</p><p>Peter smiles and kisses him again, “Hey,” he whispers, taking Tony’s hand as he rises from the patio chair and tugs him inside as the first drops of rain start to fall.</p><p>When he glances back droplets of water glisten in Tony’s dark hair and there’s a yearning, hungry look to his gaze that has nothing to do with chicken.</p><p>Peter shivers.</p><p>This is what <em>living</em> feels like.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>Rain patters down on the clay roof, the air chill against the sweat on his skin, lightning flashing to illuminate the dark eyes staring back at him.</p><p>Tony breathes deeply beneath him, hands trembling where they rest on his thighs as Peter rides him, slow and steady. This isn’t even about coming, it’s a need for connection, a yearning for that feeling that comes when Tony gasps his name like it’s oxygen for his drowning lungs.</p><p>He grabs Tony’s hand and lifts it to press against his sternum, the steady thrum of his heart against Tony’s calloused palm enough to make the other man whisper his name, adoration glowing in his eyes.</p><p>He’ll never tire of that—of the way Tony looks at him, of how he holds him, <em>loves</em> him. It’s too hard fought for, this love of theirs, for him to ever let it go.</p><p>Fingers curling in thick curls, he leans down and kisses Tony, sharing a gasp as the action has Tony’s cock dragging over his prostate. A choked off wrecked little noise barely makes it past his lips as he kisses Tony again and rolls his hips harder, chases that sensation.</p><p>Thunder rumbles loud enough to vibrate through the walls, the tremble of it shuddering over his skin and down his spine as he arches back up, fingers pressing into the scar on Tony’s chest where the arc reactor used to be.</p><p><em>I love you Tony </em>he whispers, <em>love you, love you, love you</em></p><p>Tony’s head falls back as Peter leans in again to press kisses to his throat, raindrops sliding down the window panes and blurring the world outside.</p><p>He tastes like sweat and sun and lemon and Peter knows that however many years they have left together, it’ll never be enough.</p><p>He’ll always want more.</p><p>Tony gasps his name, hands desperate on his skin as Peter rolls his hips, bodies slick and hot against each other, soft cries filling the room alongside the hush of the rain.</p><p><em>Please, Peter, need you, please </em>Tony whispers, voice breaking as tears glisten in his eyes. Peter hushes him gently and leans up for a kiss, soft and gentle, lips parting on moans as they move faster now, that warm familiar ache building where their bodies meet.</p><p>Tony cums inside him with a low cry, body arching into Peter’s as he half sobs, clutches at him desperately, face tucked into Peter’s neck so his hot, unsteady breaths wash over his skin.</p><p>The sensation of Tony’s release is one Peter will never get used to—it’s like carrying a piece of his lover inside him, warm and comforting and completing. Like he’s whole for the first time in years.</p><p>He didn’t know how he could miss something he had never had before he and Tony made love, but it’s that—love—that he’s been yearning for his whole life. It’s different than the love he has for May, it’s deeper, consuming, like a string has been tied under the left side of his ribs, deep inside him, stretching across space and time to where it’s knotted beneath Tony’s, and if they go too far apart, it would snap.</p><p>Lightning flashes and Peter holds Tony’s gaze as he cums too, shaking and gasping before he’s capturing those lips in his, desperate and needy as he rides out the last of his release. Thunder pounds against the stucco of the house and inside his chest, heart pounding as it begs to fly free and up into the night.</p><p>He collapses against Tony, sighing as he presses his lips to the sweaty crown of his head.</p><p>“I love you,” he whispers, barely loud enough to cause a vibration in the air, but he knows Tony hears him because his hands tighten on his skin, possessive and loving.</p><p>
  <em>Il mio amore…mio caro…il mio cuore</em>
</p><p>Tony whispers it in his ear, voice hoarse, and Peter can smell the salt of his tears, hear the irregular beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his breath…every inch of him trembling with love.</p><p>Leaning up slightly he smiles softly at Tony, kisses away his tears and presses his forehead with Tony’s.</p><p>
  <em>My love…my darling…my heart</em>
</p><p>This is what living feels like.</p>
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